Flames. Flames engulfed the remaining bits of darkness that surrounded them, and they could suddenly see everything. Their hearts thumped loudly to the sound of a terrifying soundtrack, and they all but gasped at the realization of the extent of their fear: when had humans – live beings – become scarier than gut-eating zombies?
As they looked back on what had once held the potential to be their long awaited sanctuary, their satisfying grins didn't quite meet their eyes. The tired wrinkles on their foreheads betrayed their apparent relief, and Rick motioned for everyone to keep going… he knew it wouldn't be long before the realization hit them. What would they do now? Tara was wounded, having been shot in the abdomen; Bob had a deep gash on his leg from climbing the fence; and his most skilled, usually fearless brother in arms seemed close to sleepwalking.
Yes, the group had managed to escape, and none of them had been left behind.
Terminus, however, had kept a piece of each and every one of them to burn down with it.
TWDTWDTWD
As soon as they found a clearing far enough from their captors, Rick and Abraham told everyone to rest while they set up traps with rusty metal and broken bottles. Maggie and Glenn were quick to do as they said, laying an unconscious Tara on the grass.
"Bob? What can we do?" The brunette shouted over to the wounded doctor. He was already taking care of his own injury, allowing Sasha to clean it up for him with leaves and then giving her a piece of fabric to use as a tourniquet.
Glancing over to the seemingly lifeless girl, he winced as Sasha tightened the knot around his leg. "Check… to see if it's got… ah… an exit wound." He closed his eyes in pain.
Glenn lifted her shirt and Maggie turned her to the side. "Yeah. Through and through."
"And how's her pulse?"
Maggie motioned for everyone to be quiet. "Uhm… dunno… I mean, it's weird. Quick."
"Damn it." Bob cursed. "Help me up." He asked Sasha. He then limped towards them and sat beside Tara heavily. "I think…" He sighed. "I think it might've hit an organ."
"What?" Glenn frowned. "What does that mean? What do we do?"
"That's the thing…" Bob whispered, eyeing the fallen brunette.
"We can't do anything." Maggie's lip trembled. "Right? That's what you're sayin', right?"
"No!" Glenn stood up. "Rick! We gotta get her somewhere safe!" He yelled, looking everywhere around them. "Rick, c'mon. We gotta move, she needs meds!"
"Honey, honey…" Maggie tugged at the bottom of his pants, watery eyes meeting his frantic ones. "C'mere."
"No!" Glenn shook his head, his angry tone making everyone wince. They needed to avoid making noise at all costs. "She survived everything, every single thing so far. We're a group…" His voice faltered.
"I know. I know, but…"
"Not but, Maggie. You see, she doesn't deserve to die." He knelt down, his head leaning against Maggie's. "She's a good person." His lower lip trembled, and everyone around them fell silent.
Tara's unsteady breathing became the only source of sound. When Rick and Abraham arrived, Michonne explained the situation to them, and both sat down to wait with them. Maggie and Glenn held both her hands, and Rosita placed her jacket under Tara's head.
It all felt scarily familiar. All the deaths, all the uncertain moments, all the killings… they all weighed heavily in each of the now hopelessly waiting hearts. Another loss, another life lost to a group of self-entitled assholes. And those who got to live – well, they weren't always better off.
They had no way to measure time. The moon was high up in the sky, and had been so for a while, so it had to be close to midnight – perhaps a bit later. They all stared at the sky, defeated, unable to cry, always defensive; always waiting for the next blow.
"Her hand's cold." Maggie murmured, after a while.
Glenn cleared his throat. "What're we gonna do, Rick?"
Rick eyed the group, worry evident in his eyes. He had half a mind to tell them to run now, to get as far away from, well, everywhere, as possible. But that was just despair talking. And he couldn't afford to feel such blatant despair. Not when everyone was looking at him with such lost looks. "First things first - we bury her. Then we get a good night's rest. And in the morning… we walk."
TWDTWDTWD
Daryl woke up before everyone else. Abraham and Rosita had stayed on watch, each on one side of the camp – if one could call it that - , and the redneck had taken that opportunity to get as much sleep as he could. He hadn't been sleeping that well, and at the lack of booze, he guessed he could use the extreme exhaustion that had overcome his body as an anaesthetic. He enjoyed feeling numb; he liked how it enabled him to be so much more productive than when he was just feeling sorry for himself.
Nodding in Abraham's direction, he swiftly walked over the traps, holding the twig he had sharpened the night before in his hand. With a sigh, he brushed his shoulder, noticing how light it felt; the only thing he allowed himself to miss was his crossbow. He yawned and stretched, allowing himself some time to gather his thoughts.
He noticed what appear to be a rabbit's trail. It wouldn't feed everyone, not in the least, but it was something. Marching in automatic, he didn't even wince when a ray of sun breached through the highly dense leaves in the trees. He felt as if he was hangover, but figured it was due to the inhalation of smoke from the night before.
The trail ended up being a dead end. Someone else had found it first, killed it and skinned it. "Stupid rabbit." He spat, annoyed. "Lettin' yourself be caught by everyone and anyone."
He wanted to yell. And shout for everyone to hear. He wanted not to worry about being loud, or selfish, or reckless. He was tired of being responsible, of being the strong one, but he was especially sick of being quiet. Yeah, no more quiet. Daryl snickered to himself; take this, fuchin' wobblin' things.
He threw a large rock against a stomp, causing a flock of birds to fly away. "Yeah, take that!" He kicked a tree, and it hurt enough to make him grimace. "Fuck. Y'hear that? Fuck! Fuck you…" He inhaled heavily, knowing he was about to lose the remnant of his control. Punching the tree, he leant his head against the trunk. "You fuckin' p…"
And then he heard it. A tiny sob. Two tiny sobs. He frowned; he knew he wasn't sobbing, and his face didn't feel wet in the least. At best, it felt numb. He felt numb all over.
But then he heard it again. The quietest of sobs, followed by the most hushed of cries.
Glancing around in a mix of nervousness and wariness, his eyes fell on a large bush a few steps from the rabbit's carcase. Walking steadily and soundlessly towards it, he squinted his eyes and tightened his lips; something didn't feel right.
With a tentative hand, he reached for the leaves, but as he tried to grub the bush, he felt his eyes widen as another hand grabbed his. The hold was urgent, and the hand felt smaller than his, more delicate. His instincts were dormant, and he admonished himself for not trying to break free from the fleeting, but strong, grasp.
"What…?"
Freeing his other hand from the twig, he removed some of the leaves from the way – just enough to get a good luck at what was hiding behind them. He gasped.
"B- Beth?"
She eyed him, mouth slightly open, no sound coming out. Her eyes filled with tears, and he felt his arm failing him, falling against his will, and his knees crumbling with a soft thud. The blonde girl breathed shallowly, her lips trembling, but she held his gaze. And as another sob was heard, his attention was redirected towards her lap. Two kids – babies, really – were staring at him fearfully, their little heads peeking from behind Beth's back. Beth's rigid stance softened as she heard the little boy, and with her free hand brushed his cheek. The little girl tugged at Beth's shirt, and the blonde smiled, a tear falling down her cheek.
"It's okay, baby girl. It's Daryl."
A/N: So, what did you guys think? I always struggle with the first chapter, but I think this story has potential ;)
Also, do you have any suggestions for names?
Kisses!